


Heady Imagination

by SolarMorrigan



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Because Charles is asleep, Dubious Consent, Kink Meme, M/M, Masturbation, imaginary rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-19
Updated: 2014-09-19
Packaged: 2018-02-17 22:46:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2325923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolarMorrigan/pseuds/SolarMorrigan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off <a href="http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/3278.html?thread=4469710#t4469710">this</a> kink meme prompt (warning for possibly triggering language in the prompt).  While on the Mutant Roadtrip, Erik wakes up to find Charles laid out in a manner he finds difficult to ignore...</p><p> </p><p>  <i>"Charles had apparently managed to tangle himself in the thin fabric of the hotel sheets sometime in the course of the night and now they did no more than ineffectually wrap around his feet and one of his legs, leaving everything else bare to the moonlit room.  Every plane of surprising, compact muscle, the curve of his enticing mouth, each wayward strand of dark hair was caught in the silver light and practically presented to Erik."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Heady Imagination

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a bit nervous about posting this one, but I wrote it and considering the prompt was reposted two or three times, I suppose people were somewhat eager of a fill so maybe this will satisfy someone..? I hope it's not too bad, anyway
> 
> Edit: Fixed some typos that magically appeared? (Read: I actually proofread the damn thing and fixed it up a little)

Erik is familiar with torture.  He has been on the receiving end, and he has also been the administrator.  He knows how it works.  He knows that almost everyone is exaggerating when they say something is torture.

This, though?  Erik isn’t terribly sure calling this torture would be too far into the land of hyperbole.

Because what “this” has been is a systematic and innocent pushing of every one of Erik’s buttons, all leading up to a display that has no right being as goddamn erotic as it is.

It had started innocuously, of course, it always does; it had only been the brush of sunlight across Charles’ bangs as the man smiled over at Erik from the chair in front of Agent What’s-His-Name’s desk, an expression of delight and almost infuriating _knowing_ lingering on Charles’ face.  Then it had been the light that had fairly _shone_ from damnably blue eyes later that day when Charles looked into the air and pulled from it the information on their fellow mutants.  Then it was the strength and precision of Charles’ hands as he packed his fucking suitcase, of all things, and it was at that point that Erik began to wonder if he was slightly screwed.

The warmth of Charles pressed against Erik’s side on the bed in that cheaply opulent club where they had picked up Angel had been a little too pleasant, then.  Erik wanted sorely to focus on the woman in front of them and her truthfully amazing mutation; on the way her wings unfurled gracefully, delicate and strong all at once, but that really only brought him back to the man pressed at his side.

The feeling of purely emotional warmth that spread through Erik’s chest when Charles tossed his arm casually over Erik’s shoulders in the back of Darwin’s cab had been rather distracting.  Though Erik played his part, still, his mind and body lingered too long on the satisfaction of every point of contact he held with Charles.  Then it was becoming a bit of a problem.

And then there were the hotel rooms.  The countless, too-small, too-intimate hotel rooms that Erik shared with Charles because the CIA wasn’t about to fork over any amount of good money to put up a couple of freaks on a recruitment trip.  Charles had always taken their less-than-stellar accommodations in sunny stride, and Erik was certainly no stranger to ill lodgings, so it’s not like he was about to complain about some mildewy-smelling room in a no-name motel east of Bumfuck Nowhere, but it was just… It was just that it gave Erik all too many opportunities to just be near Charles and his omnipresent scent of crisp paper and heavy ink and fabric starch and even more opportunities to _watch_ Charles.  Erik would swear that wasn’t as creepy as it sounds, but it probably was.

Still, how the hell was he supposed to look away when Charles was just leaning over things left and right (only a slight exaggeration, honestly) and showing off an ass that most certainly did not belong on an Oxford-professor-to-be, or when Charles would just parade out of the bathroom in a towel because he forgot to pull his damned pajamas out of his suitcase?  Erik might have pretended otherwise, but he most certainly was not made out of steel.  And somehow, all of this had culminated into the sight not three feet to his right in some town or other in the southern U.S.

It was unseasonably warm, even for the south, and Charles had forgone his characteristic rumpled flannel pants and sweater for sleeping in his shorts.  Erik had very pointedly not looked over at Charles as the other man got into bed and felt something akin to pride at his show of self control.  But it had all been for naught when Erik snapped into wakefulness sometime around two in the morning.

Erik was a light sleeper by necessity, and had grown used to being woken now and then by Charles, who was a restless sleeper by virtue of his mutation—no matter how good his shields were, it wasn’t uncommon for them to slip in his sleep and allow some stray thoughts or dreams in.  Usually, after ensuring the room was secure and Charles wasn’t in any kind of real distress (not that Erik would really know what to do if he _was_ , since Erik was kind of better at causing distress than assuaging it), Erik would be able to drop right off again.  Charles’ presence was surprisingly calming—comfortable, even, despite being stupidly attractive and grating on Erik’s self control.  There was no reason tonight should have been any different.  No reason at all.

Except for the fact that Charles had apparently managed to tangle himself in the thin fabric of the hotel sheets sometime in the course of the night and now they did no more than ineffectually wrap around his feet and one of his legs, leaving everything else bare to the moonlit room.  Every plane of surprising, compact muscle, the curve of his enticing mouth, each wayward strand of dark hair was caught in the silver light and practically presented to Erik.  Charles lay on his back, one arm resting at his side and the other stretched up above his head, his legs splayed as far as the sheets and the narrow width of the bed would allow, and his shorts… Erik swallowed, allowing his eyes to linger as he wouldn’t dare at any other time, taking in the way Charles’ boxers had ridden up in his sleep and left nothing, really, to Erik’s imagination.  It was only the dark of the room that preserved any of Charles’ modesty.  The moonlight couldn’t illuminate everything, after all.

But it did enough.

And as strong as Erik was, this was _it_.  This was the final straw.  He couldn’t just roll over and go back to sleep while his private pornographic fantasy incarnate was laid out just three short feet away, across the too-small space between the twin beds they were inhabiting for the night.  There were a lot of things Erik could do, but that was not one of them.  What he could do, however, was desperately hope that Charles would not wake up as Erik slipped a hand into his own boxers and trailed his fingers across his awakening arousal.

Erik knew how to take care of his own needs; he knew how to do it quickly and he knew how to do it quietly.  It wasn’t as though he’d been able to indulge in the luxury of relationships, nor had he particularly wanted to.  He was adept enough at picking up a willing partner at a bar or club when he had the time, but he would always turn to self-pleasure before he _hired_ someone to give him a hand; that much was certain.  And he could do it now, too.  He could get himself off and go to the bathroom and clean up without Charles ever knowing what had transpired.  If Erik’s trip to the bathroom disturbed Charles, well, it wasn’t as though people weren’t allowed to get up and go to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

Erik paused briefly, his hand stilling for just a moment, wondering if he should just go to the bathroom right now, rather than take such a risk as he was.  He’d gotten quite an eyeful already, more than enough to carry him through…

Then Charles sighed, his red mouth parting and chest expanding in motion and Erik wrapped his hand firmly around his own cock.  Well worth the risk.

He gave himself a few light strokes to start, not yet excited enough to bring on a quick finish, just eyeing Charles’ unfairly curved lips in the uneven darkness of the room.  He imagined Charles, for all the talking he did, would have a wonderfully talented tongue.  And Erik had been to more than one bar with Charles after an unsuccessful day filled with “no” and “go fuck yourself,” and he had seen Charles down a drink in just a few long swallows, and he could imagine, too, that Charles would be very good at suppressing his gag reflex.  Naturally, Erik could then imagine Charles kneeling between his legs, looking playfully up at him before he took Erik’s cock between his full lips and flicked his tongue along sensitive veins.  Then Charles could move forward and slide down, and further down, until Erik’s cock was pushing at the back of Charles’ throat.

Erik paused briefly to lick his palm and ease some of the friction; not ideal, but he _was_ trying to be quick about it.  Then, just as he began to pump his hand back down his length in earnest, allowing his eyes to slide down Charles’ body, the man in question moved.  Not just a stretch or a sigh, but a full turn onto his stomach.  Erik froze, waiting to see what the other man would do.

The answer turned out to be nothing.  Charles let out a garbled string of syllables and settled into sleep once more, allowing Erik to continue raking his eyes down his form.

The loss of the indecently outlined cock in the front of Charles’ boxers could be mourned, Erik supposed, but he now had a perfect view of the pert curve of Charles’, frankly, fantastic ass and, oh, if that didn’t give him all sorts of new ideas.  The things he could do with an ass like that were endless.  More than once, Erik had imagined being able to reach over and place his hands on Charles’ backside and give him a firm squeeze.  He imagined the flesh would yield so nicely under his fingers and the noise Charles would make would be so satisfying.  Erik brushed his thumb quickly over the head of his cock and let the few drops of precum help the glide of his hand.

Once Erik had his hands on Charles, he supposed he’d have a hard time letting go.  He thought of gently kneading the man’s rear before parting the cheeks that fit so nicely in his hands and stroking just one finger down in between, and hearing the pleased noise that Charles made in—

That noise had not been in Erik’s head.  Erik cursed inwardly.  He hadn’t even been trying to keep his thoughts quiet and now, now he’d woken Charles and been caught and everything was over, this was it… except Charles wasn’t looking at him accusatorily, or with a look of stunned betrayal.  In fact, Charles’ eyes weren’t even open.  His mouth was, however, and he let out another pleased noise as—and Erik couldn’t believe it took him this long to notice—his hips rutted slowly against the mattress.

Erik blinked in the darkness, momentarily still with disbelief.

Charles was picking up his thoughts (at least, Erik had to assume it was his thoughts Charles was picking up) and was _aroused_ by them.  Well.  Erik could work with this.

Erik’s hand took up its rhythm once more, perhaps a bit slower than he had been going before, and began imagining once more.  He thought no louder than before, lest he actually wake the telepath, but made no move to mute his thoughts, either.  Picking up where he left off, he thought of trailing one finger down the part between Charles’ cheeks and finding his hole.  He could rub the pad of his finger there slowly, circling, his skin just dry enough to cause a teasing burn.  Charles let out another noise and pressed down into the mattress with what little leverage he had.  His feet were still trapped by the sheet, hindering his movements slightly, which suited Erik just fine.

As he reached down with his unoccupied hand to wrap his fingers lightly around his balls, Erik wondered how Charles would respond to just the tip of a finger being pressed into his tight entrance, dry but not too rough, hinting at what could follow.  Across the gap, Charles whined quietly, and Erik shook his head, mentally withdrawing his finger.  No, he wanted to draw this out; he wanted to be much more intimate than using fingertips.

Instead of his finger, Erik imagined pressing his lips to the luscious curve of Charles’ ass before dipping in with his tongue.  It wasn’t something Erik had ever done before, but he imagined Charles was smart enough to keep himself clean, and then imagined pressing the tip of his tongue to Charles’ responsive hole.

In his own bed, Charles gasped and finally managed to draw one leg out of the trap of his sheet, hitching it up on the bed so his knee very nearly reached his chest and making the most out of the leverage it afforded him.  Erik sat up against his thin pillow, attention fully captured by how indecently wide Charles’ legs were now spread as the telepath steadily humped against the mattress.  Erik grinned in the dark and noted how very little Charles’ shorts were doing to contain the swell of his ass as he ground his hips down.  This was better than anything he had ever dared hope for.

Erik returned to the place in his mind where he was licking Charles open, slowly but surely, and was egged on by the out and out moan Charles let out into the night air.  Erik would work between Charles’ spread thighs until his hole was slick and open and then he would grip Charles’ legs and spread them wider still, he could do it, Erik knew he could, and then he could press just the tip of his cock against Charles’ waiting entrance and Charles would…

Yes, he would make exactly the noise he just had, that breathless, excited moan that was telling Erik _yes_ and _please_ and _now_.  Hand still sliding across the hot firmness of his own erection, Erik allowed himself to watch a moment more.  He watched Charles clutch at the coversheet of the mattress and imagined his own hand captured in those deft fingers instead, watched as Charles panted and ground his cock down against the mattress, unable to get enough friction, and he watched those legs splayed obscenely wide and decided to proceed with his fantasy.

With one hand still holding firm to the welcoming curve of Charles’ ass, Erik could push into him, glide slow and steady until he was absolutely enclosed, balls-deep in the slick-welcome heat of Charles’ hole.  Logically, he knew that his tongue wouldn’t be near enough preparation, but this was a fantasy after all, he supposed he could dispense with technicalities.  It seemed Charles agreed, still gasping and rutting against the mattress, eyes shut tight and keeping him firmly in the dreaming world where Erik’s cock was now pumping in and out of him steadily, sliding out and slamming back in.  Erik’s hand tightened around his cock and he fucked into his fist, imagining the way Charles’ hole would just take him in, red and slick and used and-

“ _Erik_.”

Erik came on the spot, the sound of Charles’ voice, breathless and desperate as he _moaned_ out his name, reverberating around in his head.

He allowed himself a minute or two of recovery time, easing his breathing back into a normal pattern, before he glanced over the Charles’ bed.  The man was still now, though his breath was still uneven and his body shone with sweat reflected in the moonlight.  Erik looked up from one well-formed calf, up to strong thighs, to bunched-up shorts doing nothing to conceal anything from anyone, up each bump of bone in Charles’ spine, up a long and tantalizing neck, up to bright blue eyes gazing at him in the dark.

For the first time in so many years that Erik can no longer remember the last time it occurred, Erik jumped.  He nearly jumped right out of his skin, right out of his bed, and right out of the hotel room, because the game was up.  But he was pinned by the clear eyes as easily as if Charles were bodily holding him down.  Erik simply stayed in his bed, half sitting up, damp with sweat, his own boxers sticking uncomfortably to him, and looked back at Charles.

A long silence stretched across the too-short void between their beds.

Charles was the one to break it.  “I do wish you’d woken me sooner.”

Erik blinked.  “Ah- What?”

“As imaginative as you’ve proven yourself, I’ve no doubt that having your hands on me for real would be so much better.” Charles continued, shifting slightly to prop himself up on his arms.

Not for the first time, Erik found himself grabbing for words in Charles’ wake.  “You- You’re not-  You were…”

A slow smirk spread across Charles’ face, smug and infuriatingly alluring.  “I’m not angry, no.  Anyone else, I might have been, but I also don’t trust anyone else to be in such close proximity to me while I sleep.  No one except Raven, really.” Charles paused, considering Erik in the dark, “Never mind that I’ve been wanting to go to bed with you for weeks, now.”

“I.  What?” Erik was having trouble parsing this turn of events, wondering if he could really be so lucky.

“And since your words seem to have left you for the moment, perhaps you could find a better use for your mouth.  You did have such creative ideas just a few minutes ago.” Charles continued, rolling onto his side to regard Erik and revealing the wet patch in his own boxers, “Not to mention some interesting ones involving mine.”

Erik swallowed and nodded, and began to wonder if perhaps _he_ was the one dreaming.  Charles only offered him a sultry smile, but took the gap between their beds in two short steps before straddling Erik on his mattress.  He leaned in close, so close that Erik had to reach out and grip his biceps and Charles’ lips almost brushed his.  “No,” Charles said finally, “I feel that we should both be very much awake for this next part.”

And at those words, Charles pressed his lips to Erik’s in a kiss that kept them up until dawn.


End file.
